[Nobody's here, far as he can see or hear. Whoever set this here was in a hurry to run, damn quick too to give him the slip. How sus...
It's an open secret at this point he loves sweets, in spite of his best efforts to keep it. Between those profiles spilling their secret info for the whole world to see and people catching him swiping confectionaries at the afterparties, anyone could've left this here for him. Anyone who could bake without burning the whole kitchen down.
Picking up the plate of cake, the teen sat down on the tray, cogitating. Gluttony was a Saotome's greatest vice close to or perhaps more than pride. It's caused heaps of problems that could've been easily avoided had he or his father thought less with their stomachs. Now, Ranma's is nowhere near as bad as his old man in that department. That's the only reason he isn't immediately scarfing the cake down, crumbs and all.
... and the paranoia, shameful as that is to think here.
Someone covertly handed this off to him while keeping their identity anonymous. They were in a rush to get him out of his room but didn't want to stick around. All coincidently on the day before Friday. Ya know, the day people freaking die on in this place?
Signs point to this being a, pun intended to the fullest extent, sugarcoated attempt on his life. He doesn't know what's in that delicious looking cake. Poison's customarily regarded as the coward's weapon. Safest option would be to dump it in the trash.
But.
Why kill now? For what, a crummy motive for food they've got in stock already? Run the risk of a fourth deathly trial and risk their final moment in a execution that'll cut nerves metaphorically and in some cases literally? No one could be that braindead to try anything now?
Ranma spends the next five minutes weighing his options. A. Eat the blatant murder cake and possibly croak. Or B. Trash the cake, potentially wasting good food.
(2/3 i lied sorry)
[Look left. Look right.]
[Nobody's here, far as he can see or hear. Whoever set this here was in a hurry to run, damn quick too to give him the slip. How sus...
It's an open secret at this point he loves sweets, in spite of his best efforts to keep it. Between those profiles spilling their secret info for the whole world to see and people catching him swiping confectionaries at the afterparties, anyone could've left this here for him. Anyone who could bake without burning the whole kitchen down.
Picking up the plate of cake, the teen sat down on the tray, cogitating. Gluttony was a Saotome's greatest vice close to or perhaps more than pride. It's caused heaps of problems that could've been easily avoided had he or his father thought less with their stomachs. Now, Ranma's is nowhere near as bad as his old man in that department. That's the only reason he isn't immediately scarfing the cake down, crumbs and all.
... and the paranoia, shameful as that is to think here.
Someone covertly handed this off to him while keeping their identity anonymous. They were in a rush to get him out of his room but didn't want to stick around. All coincidently on the day before Friday. Ya know, the day people freaking die on in this place?
Signs point to this being a, pun intended to the fullest extent, sugarcoated attempt on his life. He doesn't know what's in that delicious looking cake. Poison's customarily regarded as the coward's weapon. Safest option would be to dump it in the trash.
But.
Why kill now? For what, a crummy motive for food they've got in stock already? Run the risk of a fourth deathly trial and risk their final moment in a execution that'll cut nerves metaphorically and in some cases literally? No one could be that braindead to try anything now?
Ranma spends the next five minutes weighing his options. A. Eat the blatant murder cake and possibly croak. Or B. Trash the cake, potentially wasting good food.
...]